


we were reachin', reachin' for the rafters

by capnseriouslycanadian



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Sorry Not Sorry, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, this was supposed to be a Halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capnseriouslycanadian/pseuds/capnseriouslycanadian
Summary: Jonny stands under the spray, thinking about how things could be so different if maybe they had won three cups in a row. If maybe Patrick had been traded after the summer of 2015. If they had been able to make that final push last year and clawed their way back into the playoffs.or, as fall out boy would say, thnks fr th mmrs.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	we were reachin', reachin' for the rafters

**Author's Note:**

> this is 100% a nostalgia induced fic and i blame the hawks and their 4-0 loss to the canes.
> 
> title taken from kids by onerepublic.

Jonny bangs his stick against the wall as he walks down the tunnel. The entire game was frustrating, from the first whistle to the last, and no matter what he did, no matter what  _ they _ did, nothing was going right. It was like running on a treadmill; they just couldn’t  _ get  _ anywhere.

As he walks over to his stall, he notices how subdued the energy in the room is. Everyone felt this loss, from top to bottom, and it shows. Jonny should say something, he really should, but he also knows that sometimes after a game like this, there’s nothing you can say to make it better. 

“Boys,” Seabs says as he stands up from his stall, a deep sound that quiets the room. “I’m not going to preach that we need to be better, because no shit we do. But we need to start playing for each other. We need to show everyone, including each other, how invested we are in this team. Now let’s fucking go, no more nice shit, no more fancy shit. Just winning shit.” Seabs smirks as he sits back down and Shawzy laughs. 

Jonny nods his head and looks to his right. He sees Kaner shaking his head as he laughs, whether it be at Seabs or at something Dylan said, Jonny has no idea. All he knows is that even on the worst days, after the worst games, that smile still warms his heart. 

As he walks off towards the showers, Jonny thinks about when he and Patrick first came to Chicago. He thinks about how the team struggled to sell out the United Center and how little rapport they had around the league. “We’re gonna fill this place up” has always been a sort of mantra, a way to keep his head up about how things will get better. 

But every night is a sellout at the United Center now, and it has been for years. Thinking about how little success they’ve had recently, in spite of the fan support and the sellouts, is beyond frustrating. As captain, Jonny knows he takes the majority of the heat for things that go wrong with the team, but he’s noticed that Patrick has been taking a lot of heat lately, and it hurts to see how it affects him. 

Jonny stands under the spray, thinking about how things could be so different if maybe they  _ had  _ won three cups in a row. If maybe Patrick  _ had  _ been traded after the summer of 2015. If they  _ had  _ been able to make that final push last year and clawed their way back into the playoffs. 

All the possibilities swirl around in his head and make his heart ache with nostalgia for the days when he was just a baby-faced rookie, so unaware of how hard this league can be on you. No one ever tells you that getting to live out your childhood dream is so fucking hard. 

“Jon,” Patrick’s voice startles Jonny, a barely audible whisper over the water hitting the shower tiles. “You’ll drown yourself if you stay in here any longer.”

“What? How long have I been in here?”

Patrick smiles softly. “All the guys left 20 minutes ago. Seabs told me to stick around and make sure our Captain doesn’t drown himself.” 

Of course Seabs would say that. He knows how Jonny would go home after games during his rookie year and sulk in the shower for hours. He threatened to make Jonny start paying the water bill because of all the hot water he was using. 

“C’mon Jon, let’s go home,” Patrick says as he reaches to turn off the water. His arm gets wet and makes his long sleeve shirt cling to his forearm. Jonny’s eyes gloss over as they track the movement. “Jon? You with me?”

Jonny turns to face Patrick, eyes clearer now. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll get dressed and meet you out at the car.” 

  
  
  


Jonny slowly walks down the hall, still in his nostalgia-induced trance. He remembers how lost he'd felt after he had first been named captain, walking these halls and feeling the ‘C’ on his chest like a burden. A captain should be able to carry the team and step up when needed, but all he ended up with was a single assist and several broken sticks after three straight losses to start that season. Losing the home opener was frustrating enough, but losing in a shootout, to the  _ Predators  _ of all teams, had made it infinitely worse. 

God, he used to get so frustrated back then, so down on himself about things he couldn’t control. It would keep him up at night, replaying turnovers and missed shots in his head until the sun would start to rise. It’s something that he’s worked hard to get better at as he’s gotten older. Letting things go and moving on. 

He walks out the door and turns towards his car, only to see Patrick in the driver's seat. 

He walks over a little quicker. “Kaner, what the fuck’re you doing?” Jonny asks as he leans down into the car through the passenger window. 

Patrick just pats the seat next to him. “Taking you home. I saw how unfocused you were in the showers, there’s no way I’m letting you drive right now and risk having you run us both into a support beam. So get in or I’m leaving.”

Jonny just shrugs and opens the door. It seems he’s all out of fight right now. 

  
  
  


The drive home is quiet, but comfortable. Patrick has the radio quietly playing some top 100 station, because of course he does, but it’s quiet enough to be nothing more than background noise. 

They pull into Jonny’s parking spot and sit in silence for a moment. 

“Hey Jon,” Patrick turns his head to look directly at Jonny’s face as he talks. “Do you think things will get better?”

Jonny brings his hand up to cup Patrick’s jaw. “Peeks,” he says with a sigh. “They will. I don’t know when, but I know they will. And we’ll be together through all of it, eh?” Patrick’s face breaks into a smile, dimples flashing, and Jonny uses his grip on Patrick’s jaw to bring their mouths together in a quick kiss. It’s light, with no suggestion behind it, but it says what words wouldn’t be able to. 

Patrick pulls back and puts his hand on Jonny’s knee with a sigh, running his fingertips across the fabric of Jonny’s suit. “How do we make it better? I’ve tried, I’ve tried  _ everything.  _ Nothing has changed, no matter what I do, no matter which line Jeremy plays me on. I’m-“

“Kaner,” Jonny tries. 

“-I’m supposed to be one of the best, Jonny, to be able to drive every line I play on. But look at me, I can’t help my team when they need me the most. I can’t even help you get out of your own head anymore because I’m so stuck in mine and I don’t-“

“Peeks.” Jonny puts force behind the name this time and it stops Patrick in his tracks. Jonny looks at him and sees how the skin under his eyes has become so thin, how pale he is, how unfocused his eyes are. He grabs Patrick’s hands and pulls them to rest in his lap. 

“I know that you’re worried, I am too. But we’ll figure this out, like we always do. Do you remember when we were younger and every loss seemed like the end of the world, and every win felt like game seven of the Stanley Cup Final?” Patrick gives a nod in response. “That’s how all games should be played. With the passion and adrenaline of a rookie, not caring what goes wrong, just playin’ our hearts out and livin’ the dream.” 

He squeezes Patrick’s hands in his own and thinks about all the skill they hold. All the goals they’ve scored and cups they’ve raised. Some day, Patrick is going to end up in the hall of fame, Jonny knows that for certain. His puck control and finesse are unparalleled, and even Patrick knows that. Jonny  _ wishes _ he could do some of the things Patrick does. He’s a magician with the puck and Jonny has always admired him for that.

Patrick leans over the console and nuzzles his face into Jonny’s neck, his scruff scratching up the underside of Jonny’s jaw. Jonny tilts his head down to rest on top of Patrick’s curls and takes in a slow, deep breath.

They sit there like that, for seconds that turns into minutes, and eventually Jonny notices that their breathing has synced up. Another part of their lives, so easily intertwined. 

  
The angle that they’re sitting at will fuck with Patrick’s neck and Jonny’s back if they stay like this too long, but for now, it’s nice to know that they can still enjoy the little moments and be comfortable like this. Well, maybe not  _ exactly  _ like this. But still, comfortable together. 


End file.
